#I just imagine two Murphys while just learning to drive is a disaster

[wherevenusholdssomeofficespace]

When thinking about young Milo, I've gotten in the habit of thinking about Murphy's Law in opposition to the capacity to handle Murphy's Law.

So as long as the capacity to handle it is greater than the law, you're golden. The problem comes in when the law is greater than the capacity to handle it (see Orgaluth's Law with no one helping). Obviously both can vary, Murphy's Law is shown to be lighter and heavier at times and clearly people can get worn out. But it got me wondering about the kinds of situations that could have arose before Milo was old enough to take care of himself.

Generally as kids grow up they become capable of looking after themselves. But Murphy's law would definitely make that progression more complicated since even most adults aren't shown to be capable of dealing with it. Just because you trust someone to babysit a 6 year old doesn't mean you trust them with a more needy newborn so its not like Murphy's Law adds a novel concept to childcare of more capable children need less capable caretakers, but it still makes me wonder about logistics of raising kids with Murphy's Law before they are capable of handling their own condition.

We see it a little bit with Veronica, who is very capable of handling Murphy's Law, but doesn't have it. But baby Milo probably wasn't capable of handling Murphy's Law. So he depended on people taking care of it for him until he grew old enough to take care of himself.

But we also know that Murphy's law tends to get more intense with more Murphy's around. I wonder about how much Martin took care of baby Milo by himself, could he handle double dose Murphy's Law on his own? I mean I wouldn't doubt it, but maybe it depended on the circumstances. All babies are a lot even without Murphy's Law and breaks are important. I'm sure that was even more important for Milo. Was it worse for Martin looking after Milo solo because he also had EHML and it was a lot of Murphy's Law to be handling by himself, or did he handle it better than Brigette because he was used to it even if it was more intense? We know baby Milo's Murphy's Law was at least strong enough to cause walls to randomly collapse. I say this because as of the time of the show there are no dependent Murphy's, they're all capable of handling EHML mostly on their own so we never see them having to handle double doses of it on their own so to speak. We know Veronica babysat, but that probably wasn't until Milo was at least a few months old so did the other Murphy's help out when Milo was a newborn?

But then where did baby Sara fall in this spectrum. We already see 3 or 4 year old Sara being helpful with Murphy's Law stuff when Milo was born. To what extent growing up was Sara more a help or a hindrance. Obviously Sara and Milo would have family on there moms side who was less used to Murphy's Law. Did Milo ever spend time with family on that side without his parents. Was it a matter of "oh Grandma can watch Milo, Sara's with him" or "Grandma can watch Milo, since Sara's coming with us".

It's suggested that Milo never went to preschool or kindergarten (probably for obvious reasons), and he had his backpack by the time he did (so around the time Veronica stopped babysitting for him). So I think its fair to say 1st grade was probably around the time when Milo started being able to take care of his Murphy's Law on his own (though in First Impressions they still got a bit of help from Cavendish and Dakota, that doesn't mean too much since Milo still gets help from people at times and always will. Everyone needs help sometimes).

Obviously Milo learning to handle Murphy's Law was a gradual process, so there would be a period of time in which Milo couldn't handle Murphy's Law quite on his own yet but he could with some help. We did see him starting to help Veronica out as he got older in his flashback Secrets and Pie's.

Obviously handling Murphy's law is a lot, but being around Murphy's Law you learn to handle it better. And like it is a physically intensive condition to deal with. Have to develop a fair degree of endurance and strength to deal with it (comments are made on Milo's backpacks weight and we see the kids do a lot of running and hanging on for dear life). Obviously as a Murphy boy grows up they learn to handle it. But that doesn't mean they are the only ones. In now I am a Murphy we have Grandma Murphy who is shown to be extremely capable of handling disasters. Which makes sense for someone who has two sons and a husband with EHML. And we see in athledecamathalon that all of Milo's classmates, by proximity to him, are pretty used to dealing with disasters and are pretty tough all things considered.

Actually what this all boils down to is me asking what is Sara capable of as someone who has spent her life getting used to Murphy's Law but isn't held back by it.

I mean obviously the answer is the patience to make cosplay and store merch in a house with her father and brother but honestly that is so funny to me. Also the girl has two moods "this mortal peril is barely an inconvenience" and "the idea of this relatively inconsequential thing going wrong is the worst possible thing I can imagine and I'm going to put 1000% of my energy into freaking out trying to prevent/fix this". And of then usually she has them at the same time.

I think that dichotomy would be pretty funny from an outside perspective as like a college student who does not have the context of Murphy's Law. What do you mean she had a backup hazmat suit why does she have one to begin with, and how did she finish a paper on her phone while sheltering from extreme weather while loud sirens went off while complaining about the page count. Some idiot lit the microwave on fire in the commons and she put it out without even glancing up from her tv show and was screaming in excitement about the twist. She spent 3 hours freaking out searching across town when she couldn't find the glue she needed to finish her costume and almost got into an accident with a semi but managed to avoid getting hit and then moved on without even hesitating.

Also can you IMAGINE the trouble the Murphy cousins must have gotten into when Milo was small. With or without Milo. I bet Sara and Nate have some stories. Their own Llama incidents if you will. I can see someone asking Sara about her favorite Murphy's law story and it turns out to be a story that not even Milo knows. Sara and Nate floating in the ocean on driftwood surrounded by orcas after a family get together by the ocean went wrong. Sara and Nate with a toddler Milo covered in ice cream and bees and running away from a giant ball of mud that fell from the sky while they were trying to play at the park. Just the idea of three Murphy's hanging out when they are all all children and two of them have Murphy's Law, and between the three of them they can barely handle the two doses of Murphy's Law but their getting there.

[cnrmrphy-blog]

life as we know it 5

title: baby steps  warnings: weed mention, implied depression summary: a tiny bit of effort can go a long way, right?  author’s note: i had this done for a hot second, but things have been busy and school’s starting soon so we’ll see if i can keep some semblance of consistency lol part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

--

Connor Murphy had a complicated relationship with his little sister.  

He told you one day when they were both little, they would play in their backyard.  Zoe was obsessed with the Backyardigans (the best kids television show in her own personal opinion, but you learned Connor was more of a Pokémon kind of guy) and she would make him go on various adventures with her, sometimes even throughout their neighborhood if their mother was feeling particularly generous.  

They actually had fun.  Connor would come up with these crazy quests, and they would have to complete them before dinner or else the world would be destroyed.  He seemed like such an incredible storyteller, even if he was only seven years old.  Zoe idolized him. 

But then one day he just… stopped talking to her.  He stopped talking to everybody.  He never smiled, never laughed anymore.  At first, it was just loud, angry music that he would blare to drown out any noise (whether it was his father’s shouts or his own thoughts, it was impossible to tell.  Everything was too muddled together for him to make sense of it all)—but when he turned thirteen he became eerily silent.  Connor retreated into his room, sometimes with the smell of weed wafting from underneath the door, sometimes without.  

He stopped eating dinner with his family (he seemed to have stopped eating in general).  He stopped joining his family to watch television at night.  He refused to leave his room whenever Zoe and their parents went out on the weekends.  By the time he turned fifteen, he almost effectively cut off any sort of relationship he had with his family (his mother was stubborn as shit and wouldn’t give up on him.  It pissed him off).  

You actually have never met Zoe.  It wasn’t like it was a big deal to you or anything—she didn’t run in your admittedly small social circle and Connor definitely wasn’t close with her anymore.  It wasn’t as if he wanted it to be this way—he’s just been on a whole other planet for so long he didn’t know how to connect with his family anymore. 

But at least one thing was going to change today.  

You’re not quite sure how this even happened in the first place.  One moment your English teacher was assigning partner projects (she let you pick your partner?  Oh hell yes.) and the next you were making plans with Connor to meet up somewhere after school. 

Originally, you were just going to carpool to the Panera near by and to work, but then he cursed, saying that he was grounded and wasn’t allowed to stay out after school (which you were surprised he’d even care from what you learned about him, but you were not about to question it).  So then you suggested doing it at his house without thinking. 

He wasn’t… thrilled.  He almost convinced you to just put it off and work on it later, maybe during lunch tomorrow or some other day.  But you gave him your puppy dog eyes and he begrudgingly caved. 

So now you were waiting for Zoe, keeper of the car keys because apparently Connor lost driving privileges too. You two leaned against the wall in silence and you had yet to determine if it was uncomfortable or not.  You were leaning towards uncomfortable. 

You bit your lip as you gave Connor a sideways glance.  He was more broody than usual ever since you made your questionable suggestion.  He did agree, but it was clear his relationship with his sister was rocky at best.  You prayed you weren’t a catalyst for some sort of blow out because you definitely couldn’t handle that right now.  

You trained your focus on the ground.  “I don’t have to come over if you really don’t want me to.”

“It’s not—you’re not the problem.” Connor bit the inside of his cheek, “You already know everybody in my family fucking hates me.  They’ll have a field day when they find out someone’s willing to work on a project with me, let alone actually be my friend.” 

You snapped your gaze at Connor.  “Bullshit.  That’s not true.” 

“Yeah well,” Connor smiled mirthlessly, “I’m not exactly an angel.  Zoe has every right to hate me.” 

And what was that supposed to mean? 

“...It’s never too late to make amends.” You bumped his shoulder with your own, “Maybe nothing will be fixed right away, but at least you tried.  Baby steps.” 

Connor grunted, acknowledging you but said nothing more.  You sighed, “You are not a bad person Connor.  Whatever happened before doesn’t dictate your future.” 

It was subtle and quick, but Connor’s face fell and his eyes grew a little more dull, and it broke your heart.  The bags under his eyes were more prominent than usual—he was so incredibly tired.  

But then he sucked in a breath and straightened his back, and any evidence of emotion was wiped from his face.  He glanced at you and quirked a smile—one you couldn’t really tell what was behind it. 

“Quit worrying about me, nerd.” 

You scoffed, kicking his foot, “Says the guy that reads Catch 22 for fun, you nerd.” 

“Because it’s funny!” 

Voices interrupted you, and you looked over to see two girls walking towards you—one with a guitar slung over her shoulder and the other one wearing glasses with a handful of textbooks in her arms.  

The one with the guitar looked your way and stopped mid sentence.  Her eyes flicked towards Connor, but snapped back to you.  She smiled, albeit empty.  

“Uh, hi!  You’re Y/N?  I’m Zoe.” 

“And I’m Alana—I don’t recognize you, are you from around here?” Alana cut in, and you weren’t quite sure if you even caught all of it. 

“Um yeah, that’s me!  Just moved here a few months ago.  Nice to meet you.” 

Your discomfort grew tenfold.  You didn’t loved people pointing out the fact that you’re not from the area.  It made you feel like an outsider, and Connor knew that.  He opened his mouth, but then closed it.  He crossed his arms tight around his chest, trying to restrain whatever it was he wanted to say.  

At least he’s trying to be civil, right? 

“Sorry, the car’s kinda far back.  We got a late start this morning.” Zoe wouldn’t look at Connor, but the scowl on his face told you that was very much a passive aggressive dig. 

You shrugged, “It happens.” 

You began your trek to the back of the student lot, Connor trailing behind.  Alana bit her lip and looked between Connor and Zoe, and locked eyes with you. 

Okay okay okay, maybe she’s chill.  She understands how awkward this is. 

“So Y/N, you said you just moved here?  Where from?” 

The redirection of conversation was a godsend, even if it was at your expense.  “I moved from Y/HT.  My dad got a new job so here I am.” 

“I personally never moved, but I can totally imagine how hard it is.” 

That’s a stretch, but I appreciate the sentiment, I guess. 

“It’s was rough. sure.  But I’ve met some cool people that made it easier.” 

“I’m glad!  You’re a senior right?  Because you’re in AP with Connor?”

“How do you know that?” Zoe and Connor said in unison, and it was uncanny how they had equal levels of incredulousness in their voices.  Zoe was more so surprised while Connor grew defensive.  Oh no. 

Alana was less confident than she was before.  “...Um.  I’m an office aid… I helped organize the schedules and I saw Connor’s, and Zoe said Y/N is his partner for class earlier so I just figured...” 

You reached the Murphy’s car (a black SUV with a giant dent in the back bumper, and you really wanted to know the story behind that), and Zoe fumbled with the keys.  “No it’s okay Alana!  I just… didn't know Connor was in that class.” 

The car beeped, and you climbed into the back seat with Connor sitting on the other side.  The silence was deafening while Zoe threw her guitar in the trunk.  She climbed into the driver’s seat, the tension in Zoe’s body was tangible (even if you could only see the back of her head).  

Connor’s jaw was clenched and he refused to look anywhere except the back of the headrest in front of him.  Alana surprisingly chose this moment to stay quiet (as she should, she was at least that much aware of the situation).  You kind of wanted the world to swallow you right then and there. 

There was another beat of silence before she turned around to face Connor. 

“Sorry.  It’s cool that you’re in that class.  I didn’t know.” 

Connor blinked and looked down.  His the tension in his shoulders dissipated, if only slightly.  

“S’okay.” He paused, then spoke again.  “You wouldn’t have known, I didn’t show anyone my schedule.” 

Zoe released the breath she was holding and turned back around.  She backed out of the spot, and hesitated before speaking again.  “...Do you guys want some food?  Mom doesn’t keep anything good in the house.” 

“Sure.  I’ll buy.” Connor cut in before you were even able to think.  

“Wait no, it’s fine—!” 

Again, Connor interrupted Zoe, “You’re really questioning my generosity right now?” 

His tone was clipped, but there was no malice in his voice.  Zoe laughed, a mix between disbelief and slight relief.  “Right, I’ll shut up now.” 

“Oh if Connor’s buying, then I’m getting the most expensive thing on the menu.” You turned your head towards Connor with a wide, playful grin.  

“I will literally shove you out of the car.” 

Your smile grew wider, “Do it bitch, you won’t.” 

“Try me.” Connor lunged at you, causing you to shriek.  Zoe and Alana giggled at your expense, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t thrilled that this wasn’t a complete disaster. 

Baby steps right?  Maybe everything will be okay.

[master-sass-blast]

If Murphy Exists, I’m Gonna Punch Him in His F*cking Balls (Happy Anniversary, Darling).

THREE HOURS OF SLEEP

FUCK MY LIFE

(if it wasn’t clear, i’m editing this on no sleep. so if it sucks, that’s why.)

Summary: You and Colossus are trying to look forward to and celebrate your one year anniversary, but Murphy and his law have other ideas for you.

Rating: T for language, extremely brief and vague allusions to gun shot wounds, and mentions of the menstrual cycle.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

If there’s anything you’ve learned about your life, it’s that if anything can go wrong, it will.

What can you say? Murphy really just loves fucking you right up the ass, dammit.

It’s the week before your one year anniversary of dating Piotr. You should be excited. You should be planning just exactly how you’re going to celebrate the milestone --and stocking up on condoms and lube for the “after-party.” You should be counting down every hour to the fateful day with breathless anticipation and sharing knowing looks and smiles with the love of your life.

What you should not be doing, however, is dodging bullets.

You grit your teeth as gunfire cracks all around you and tuck yourself against the back of a metal shipping container with Ellie and Yukio. “Wade! How much fucking longer!”

“It’d be faster, but Silver Balls is taking his sweet ass time sauntering towards the shooters! Hurry it the fuck up, you chrome dildo!”

“Language, both of you,” Piotr says over the comm system. “I can only move so fast in my armor.”

“Piotr, honey, I love you, but get a move on!”

The sound of Nathan’s gun going off blares through your ear piece, and then the sound of metal screeching and people screaming is audible through the tiny speaker and somewhere past the shipping container you’re crouching behind.

“There,” Nathan growls. “Shooters are down.”

You dart out from behind the container and towards the base the Brotherhood of Mutants had been working out of. “Finally!” 

Right as Piotr starts lecturing Nathan about not killing people, a mutant with gold energy glowing around his hands jumps out right in front of you.

You shriek and launch an air current right at him --sending into a tree and turning him into mutant Jello. You stare at the remains, wincing and sucking air through your teeth. “Oh shit! Too hard!”

You boyfriend takes a moment to pat your shoulder reassuringly before chucking a pickup truck at a cluster of Brotherhood members. “It happens. Try to stay focused.”

The fight ends with a middle finger to your imminent celebration.

You get shot in the shoulder and wind up in the clinic.

You blink owlishly at Piotr as he walks into your room at the clinic, armored down and only a little scraped up. “Hi... hi... babe...”

“Privet, myshka.” He sits in the chair next to yours and takes your hand in his. “How are you feeling?” he asks as he kisses your knuckles.

“A lil’ fuzzy. Hank said he was able to ‘generate mos’ of the ‘njury.”

“Da. You’ll be down for a day or two until he finishes regeneration, and then you’ll be sore for a week or so but nothing too bad.”

“Technology. Fuckin’ awesome.”

He chuckles and kisses the back of your hand. “That it is.”

So, as if literally getting shot wasn’t bad enough, Scott puts you on shit detail for the next few days for killing someone and ‘breaking the rules.’

Add injury to insult, Piotr flies out the same damn day you’re released from the clinic to go on a mission with Wolverine’s team to finish tracking down the members of the Brotherhood that managed to escape while you were attacking the bunker.

You fume next to Nathan while you work on cleaning up one of the locker rooms. You scrub at a sink basin furiously, imagining that Scott’s face is there instead of the porcelain bowl and is taking the full brunt of your efforts. 

“Jesus, take it easy. You’re gonna fuck up your shoulder again.” Nathan takes the brush from your hands and jerks his head at one of the benches. “Sit down. Rest for a minute.”

“Sure, dad.” You sit down anyway, wincing as you stretch your shoulder. “I don’t get why they punish people for killing. It just... it doesn’t make sense. I can’t explain it.”

“For people who don’t have Wade’s tendencies, it doesn’t,” Nathan agrees as he takes over cleaning up the sink. “What I don’t get is why Scott has you on cleaning duty right after discharge from the clinic. Pete’s gonna kill him.”

“Eh, he’s just like that,” you say as you rub your sore shoulder. “He hates me.”

Nathan shakes his head. “Never thought he’d be like this.”

You look up. “He’s your dad, right?”

“Yeah. Don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” You stretch your arm and shoulder, going through the physical therapy motions you’d been given before you’d left the clinic.

The week is just sucking. You’ve been shot, put on unfair shit detail, and Piotr’s not even here to comfort you through it. Fuck, you can’t even plan an anniversary date without him here! You don’t have a license; you can’t pick up supplies and you don’t want to make reservations when you don’t even know when he’ll be getting back or what kind of shape he’ll be in.

Nathan glances over his shoulder at you when you sigh. “What’s got you down?”

You feign shock and press your hand against your chest. “The famed Nathan Summers, voluntarily talking about emotions? Did his time travelling alter reality beyond his repair? Are you having a stroke? Quick, do you know where you are--”

He chuckles, shakes his head, and goes back to scrubbing the sink. “Meter’s running, kid. If you wanna talk, do it fast.”

You let out a huff and hunch over, glaring down at the --spotless--tile floor like it had personally wronged you. “Oh, it’s just that Piotr and I have our one year anniversary this weekend and everything’s going wrong. Shitty mission, accidentally got shot, Scott put me on shit detail for no fucking good reason, Piotr’s gone so we can’t plan anything, I don’t have a license or a bank account so I can’t get supplies...”

Nathan turns, leans against the sink, and crosses his arms over his chest when your voice trails off. “You do realize that Pete’s gonna be happy to just spend time with you, right? He’s not an high maintenance guy.”

“Okay, yeah, but I never thought I’d get to have something happy and romantic like a one year anniversary. I want something special --not that Piotr’s not great on his own, because I’d be totally happy just to spend the day with him too, but--”

“I get it,” Nathan interjects. “In my time, I never thought I’d live long enough to have a family. As soon as I found Aliya, I latched on to her as much as she’d let me and didn’t let go.”

“And now you’re here.”

He shrugs. “I have Wade. The team. You. Besides, since Russel’s never gonna kill Aliya and Hope, I’m never going to make the decision to go back in time to save them. Yeah, I could go back, but there’ll be another me there, and... well, I can do more good here. Try to give my wife and kid a future with the other version of me.”

You blink slowly. “Man, you really face-fucked reality, didn’t you?”

He snorts. “Something like that.” He cocks his head to the side and studies you. “Have you and Pete had sex yet?”

“Okay, I am not talking about my sex life with you in a fucking locker room--”

“I’m just saying, you could spend the day doing that. Take it from someone who’s been married, sex on anniversaries is a pretty common thing.”

And, awkwardness aside, it’s not such a horrible idea. The idea of spending the evening --or even the day--in bed with your boyfriend sits really well with you.

You smile to yourself as Nate goes back to scrubbing the sinks. Maybe this won’t be such a loss after all.

Except it is.

After a night of fitful sleep, you wake up to an all too familiar red stain in your pajama pants.

If there was a god you believed in, you’d be flipping them off right now.

Piotr comes back during the late evening, while you’re curled up in your bed with a heating pad over your sore abdomen.

You give him a mournful look when he opens your bedroom door. “My period started this morning.”

He tuts gently and sits down next to you on the bed. “I’m so sorry, myshka. Do you have everything you need?”

“Yeah, ‘cept maybe some chocolate.”

He kisses your forehead gently. “I may have solution for that. I was thinking, if you feel up to it, we could go where we had first date tomorrow. Good celebration for anniversary, da?”

And that, in spite of the gloriously shitty week you’ve had, makes you beam. “Yeah. I like the sound of that. Can we go to the chocolate shop and get some strawberries?”

“Konechno. As many as you want.”

You wake up in Piotr’s arms --and to a world of rain and thunder.

The sky is oppressively black, save for a few bursts of lightening, and rain is coming down in sheets. You can barely see the massive elm trees that sit towards the front of Xavier’s property, to say nothing of the roads out front.

“Tornado watch,” Piotr reads off his phone after you shake him awake. “Severe thunderstorms. Risk of flooding. No driving unless absolutely necessary.”

You break down crying at the news. Between the extra emotions from your period and the disaster of a week you’ve had, you can’t help it. You flop face first onto your bed --a little over dramatic, admittedly, but you’ve earned it as far as you’re concerned--and sob into the blanket.

Piotr peels you off the blanket and pulls you into his arms. He looks shocked as he wipes tears off your cheeks. “Moya lyubov’, why are you so upset? It is just rain. We can always go another day--”

“No!” You wail. “I’ve had a shit week, and I was looking forward to this, and now it’s all ruined!”

“It is not ruined, myshka.”

“It is! First we have to go on a mission, and then I killed someone before getting shot!”

It all comes bubbling out between sniffs and sobs --the constant soreness of your shoulder, how Scott had put you on ‘penance’ as soon as you’d be discharged, how your period had hit and ruined the idea of even spending an evening together, how you didn’t even have a license which meant you couldn’t go get supplies, and how Piotr hadn’t been there to plan anything...

Eventually, Piotr just pulls you into a gentle hug while you vent about your week. “I am so sorry you have had such a terrible week, dorogaya moya. I will talk to Scott and Professor Xavier about your ‘penance.’ And try not to fret, korosho? Perhaps we cannot celebrate on exact date, but it is not end of world.”

“I know!” Your breath hitches as you wipe your face dry with your shirt. “But I never thought I’d have anything like this. I wanna celebrate it.”

“I never thought I’d have you, either.”

“I appreciate that, babe, I really do, but that’s not what I meant. I grew up hearing that I was unlovable every day.” Your throat constricts as sentimentality threatens to make you cry again. “My parents constantly told me what an abomination I was and that no one would ever want me. And here you are--” you stop for a minute to try and breathe through the sobs that are shaking you “--loving me like I deserve it, and fuck I want to celebrate that but this week keeps going so fucking wrong--”

Piotr smooths your hair and kisses your forehead. “Tische, myshka. It is okay. I understand.” He smiles softly at you, thumb gently rubbing at your cheek and the dark bags under your eyes. “Why don’t you rest for little bit? I can go talk to Scott and the Professor.”

You sniffle and pout at him. “You’ll come back, right?”

“Konechno.” He nudges you back and kisses the top of your head before pulling the covers up over you. “Rest for now. I will be back soon.”

You wake up to the sound of your phone pinging.

LOML: Meet me in kitchen for breakfast? :)

You can’t help but smile. You pull on a sweatshirt --bras are overrated when you’re on your period or in general, really--and pad down to the kitchen.

The delectable scent of pancakes and bacon lures you in, and sure enough there’s Piotr putting a decent sized stack of chocolate chip pancakes on a plate for you.

“Babe!” you exclaim. “You didn’t have to!”

He shrugs, beaming and beyond pleased with himself. “Of course I did. You are my girl and you’re upset. Even if it wasn’t our anniversary, you still deserve to feel loved and be taken care of.”

Fuck, you’re gonna cry. You’ve had a shit week, and now the literal personification of sweetness is standing in the kitchen and fixing you a plate of pancakes while telling you he loves you.

It’s been a bit of a rollercoaster, and you’re on the verge of emotional whiplash.

You wrap your arms around Piotr’s waist and press your face against his side as you start weeping again. “Thank you.”

He sets the plate down, turns so your face is against his chest, and runs his hands up and down your back while he kisses the top of your head. “You’re welcome, lyublyu.” He shifts to the side, then picks up a box of strawberries and holds it up for you to see. “I found these in fridge. I thought we could try making our own.”

You let out a surprised laugh in between gasping cries. “You’re too good to me, Piotr. Fuck, I don’t even have anything for you--”

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs. “It can be dealt with later.”

You press your cheek against his chest and let out a shaky breath. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The strawberry making is blast. The two of you wind up burning a pan of chocolate before you can dip the damn things --in Piotr’s defense, that only happened because you’d distracted him--and you get more chocolate on yourselves than you do the actual berries.

Piotr winces as he starts down at his chocolate smudged fingers and forearms. “How did this even happen?”

“Hey, you took your chances when you decided to work with me.” You pat his arm sympathetically, leaving little chocolate smears wherever you touch. “Maybe you should go get cleaned up.”

He eyes the stains you’ve left and sighs. “Da. Before you decide to aim for my face.” He chuckles when you promptly swipe at his face and ducks out of his way. “I’ll be back in minute. Be good while I’m gone.”

“No promises!” You wait until he’s out of sight, then wipe your hands off on your pants before reaching for your phone.

Me: Do you know how to set up a projector?

Me: And lift heavy things?

Nathan: You do realize that projectors are woefully outdated in my time, right?

Me: Yeah, futuristic geriatric, I know.

Me: Can you do it or not?

Nathan: Yeah. Why?

You grin down at your phone screen. Piotr Rasputin, prepare to have your socks knocked off.

You glare down Nathan as you stand in front of the door to Piotr’s art studio. “I’m only saying this once. If you ever tell anyone --especially Wade--about this room, I’m going to unspeakable things to all of your guns.”

“It’s an art studio. I’ve seen it in yours and Pete’s minds. And if I haven’t told anyone at this point, I’m not going to at all.”

“Good.” You open the door and usher him in. “Okay, so here’s what I’ve got in mind...”

You and Nathan --carefully--move the furniture in Piotr’s art studio to carve out a decent sized space in the room to lay out and inflate the largest air mattress you could find in one of the many storage closets in the mansion.

You’re in the process of banking the mattress with heavy things so it won’t slide all over the place when the door starts to open. “Shit!” You dart over to the door and throw your weight against it to slam it shut. “Ow! My other shoulder!”

There’s a pause outside the door that could be described as fondly exasperated, and then Piotr’s deep voice rumbles. “Myshka... what are you doing?”

“Uh... nothing.”

“Right. And I can’t come in to my art studio because...”

“Uh... reasons. I’m trying to do something, but you can’t see it just yet.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing to my art studio?”

You sigh, then open the door and slip into the hall before shutting behind you. “It’s a surprise. For our anniversary. I wanted to do something nice to you.”

His expression is a mixture of genuinely touched and genuinely confused. “And you have to take over my art studio because...”

“It’s the best space for the task. Look, I swear I’m not destroying anything or disrupting the order to your space. Super promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

He chuckles softly and kisses the top of your head. “Do you know when you will be done?”

“Uh... nope. You’re the planner, not me.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “You are handful, myshka. But, I suppose there are other things I can do while you do... whatever it is you are doing.”

You flash him a big grin. “Good. I’ll come get you when everything’s ready.”

The rest of your day is spent darting around the mansion, gathering everything you need. You swipe blankets and pillows from yours and Piotr’s room --and run smack into your boyfriend as soon as you step into the hall.

“Y/N.”

“You can’t see me.” You adjust your armload so it covers your face. “I’m completely hidden.” You dart down the hall before he can say anything else. “Love you, babe!”

His laughter follows you down the hall, and he calls “I love you, too,” after you.

You grin as you head towards the art studio. Tonight’s gonna be great.

You pile the air mattress with blankets and pillows until it’s warm, plush, and comfortable enough to fall asleep on. Once that’s done, you dart back to Piotr’s room and swipe his DVD case.

Nathan’s gone before you get back, but the projector is set up and angled at the blank white wall in the studio. You hook it up to your laptop --a birthday gift from Wade--and make sure you can work it before you go back to setting up the space.

You take a string of white Christmas lights --you don’t know why Wade had them stashed under his bed, and you don’t want to--and hang them over the window frame. Once they’re secured --you might’ve had to tape them down--you turn them on and admire the soft glow they bathe the room in before heading out to assemble the last step of your plan.

Halfway to the kitchen, you realize you’re soaked with sweat. You detour to your room, shower off, and change before heading back to your original destination.

You put together a decent dinner --sandwiches, chips, fruits and veggies, some of the strawberries you made earlier, a couple water bottles--and pack it away in a picnic basket you’d found in a storage close before you turn around and--

jump five feet into the air because Piotr had snuck up on you while you were working.

You press your hand over your racing heart. “Christ! You scared the shit out of me, babe!”

“So sorry, dorogoy. I hope you weren’t planning on carrying that.”

“With my good hand--”

“Nyet. I was happy to let you do everything else, but I draw line here.” He reaches past you and lifts the basket out of your reach. “Your shoulder is injured. You’re not carrying this.”

You relent with a sigh. “If you insist. Everything’s pretty much ready, anyway.”

He smiles, kisses the top of your head, and takes your hand in his. “Lead the way, myshka.”

You bounce up and down on the balls of your feet, waiting in nervous anticipation while you give Piotr a moment to process the drastic renovation of his art studio.

He stares at the rearranged space, gaping while he takes everything in. He blinks, clears his throat, and says “Please tell me you didn’t move all this yourself.”

“No. I had Nathan do it. And he used telekinesis, so everything should still be in order in the drawers. And --and I made sure that all your drawings and supplies were safe, but I wanted a spot that was a little more private than the rec room and a different venue that your room or my room--”

He cuts off your rambling with a gentle kiss. “This is... incredible.” He straightens and regards the room with a quiet laugh. “I can’t believe you thought of all this.”

“Well, I wanted to do something special for you. Because if I deserve it, you definitely do. You’re kind and generous and... just really wonderful, and I thought a picnic-slash-movie night would be nice since we’ve both had a long week. And, I mean, you deserve a nice night, and I felt bad that I didn’t have anything for you for our anniversary...”

He wipes a couple stray tears of joy away from his eyes and kisses you again. “Thank you. This is amazing. It’s perfect.”

You beam up at him, delighted and so in love. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[overdressedcarp]

PLEASE POST IT.

NowPresenting: “Milo and Cavendish as Calamity Cronies” and Other Things I Need toExplain

This one’s for you, anon. You know whoyou are. (And I… don’t know who youare, unfortunately. You’re welcome in my ask box anytime, though.)

Thank you to Romina (@fisforfreakyme)for being the guinea pig for the first draft of this beast. You’re a saint.

The post that prompted this ask is here.

I’ve been pondering parallels betweenMilo and Cavendish for a while, because even though the show clearly isn’tsetting Cavendish up as the big bad, he’s still a bang-up antagonist, in largepart because of how he represents an alternate take (an “alternate future” inthe most absolutely figurative and deliciously ironic sense) on a characterwidely regarded as the embodiment of bungling things up—a character most peoplewould prefer “help by not helping.”

Cavendishand Milo both run into a lot of misfortune andthings-not-going-the-way-they’re-supposed-to. Milo’s bad luck is more dramatic(and sometimes ends up being the *cause* of Cavendish’s misfortune) but likeDakota says in “We’re Going to the Zoo,” they don’t really need Milo around toundermine their efforts. Half the time it’s Cavendish tripping over his own twofeet and botching things up himself.

Anoverarching theme in the show is how to react to bad circumstances. We’re givencharacters that fall all over the “healthily dealing with misfortune” spectrum,ranging from “shrug with a side of snark” to “snark with a side of neuroses” to“Everyone panic! I’ll start!” Cav and Milo embody totally opposite ends ofthis spectrum. Milo has learned to adapt to the chaos and at times is even ableto harness Murphy’s Law as an asset rather than a curse. Cavendish’s defaultresponse, in contrast, is to blame someone else for his woes and get angry/sulkyabout them.

This,more than any fuzzy notions of relative likeability, is what makes Milo thehero. This is the reason the show is called MiloMurphy’s Law and not The BalthazarCavendish Files.

Milohas been dealt what most people would call a bad lot in life—every day bringsone absurd disaster after another, ranging from mild inconvenience to actualphysical injury. He has to work exponentially harder than his peers just to getthe same results on assignments. Murphy’s Law causes absences from school andthen makes it nigh-impossible for him even to deliver a doctor’s note excusingthe absences. At first glance his life seems like a series of Sisyphean labors,rolling a boulder up a hill only for it to tumble back down again. But in thevery first episode, when Zack confronts Milo about Murphy’s Law, we see thatMilo doesn’t view his life in that light at all.

“I just can’t handle all of… this.”

“All of what?”

“This cyclone of calamity that follows youeverywhere you go! How do you live like this?”

“How do you live like *that*?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… you wanna live like those otherkids? They took a bus to school today. A bus! Does that seem like more fun toyou?”

Murphy’sLaw has forced Milo to grow up quickly, something which could easily be missedbehind the optimism and credulity. Despite having a lot of reasons to getdiscouraged or to resent Murphy’s Law, he does the exact opposite: he embracesthe “curse” as an opportunity. He has objectively less control over his lifethan most people do (most people, for instance, can wait at the bus stop in themorning without needing to factor in the possibility that a concrete drainage pipewill come rolling through and chase them down a hill), and yet he is constantlytaking responsibility: for his friends’ safety (and grades, and happiness, andeverything else), his sister’s movie-going experience, Amanda’s enjoymenthours… Murphy’s Law isn’t an excuse for Milo; it’s the very thing drivinghim. He’s gotten so good at making lemonade from his life’s never-ending supplyof lemons that most of the time he reallyis having more fun than everyone else.

You wanna live like those other kids?

Cavendishtransparently envies his coworkers, and it’s not difficult to understand why. Theirlives are glamorous and full of expensive creature comforts. The thingsCavendish strives for and consistently fails to achieve—respect, recognition,prestige—are awarded to them seemingly without effort.

They took a limousine to the past. Does thatseem like more fun to you?

Thetrajectory of Cavendish’s character arc is difficult to plot because he embodiesso many contradictions. He’s not a villain—muddy as his motives might be, Ibelieve his world-saving ambitions are birthed out of at least a seed ofgenuine altruism—but he’s also a long way from becoming a hero. He’s vain,petty, and quick to point fingers. More than anything, he’s held back bythe fact that his ego won’t allow him to grapple with the fact that he’sself-sabotaging. The narrative isn’t going to start taking Cavendish seriouslyuntil he can stop taking himself so seriously. But there’s more to Cavendish’sego than just taking himself too seriously: he’s driven—controlled—by a deeplyinsecure need for everyone else totake him seriously.

Forthe longest time, I was framing the question from the perspective of what itwould take for him to become the sort of person who warrants the kind ofvalidation he craves. But then I had a thought: what if Cavendish at his best isn’t the sort of person who warrantsthe kind of validation he craves? What if, in a weird upside-down way, it’s theexact opposite?

Rememberhow Milo introduces himself to Zack in Episode 1: “I’ve got a bit of areputation.” People know him as a jinx, a trouble-bringer if not atrouble-maker. Melissa and Zack know him well enough to see how distorted thatpicture is, but most people are reluctant to get that close.

Here’sthe thing. The show gives us moments where the people around Milo are able tosee and appreciate his capabilities. But Milo at his best isn’t ever going tobe the sort of person that Elliot or Bradley is going to appreciate, at least,not until their perspective on him changes. Milo is the one with the undistortedview, the one who can see himself and his condition clearly. (Remind me to talksometime about the symbolism of characters with glasses in this show.)

Cavendish,likewise, has “a bit of a reputation,” and it’s driving him crazy. Right nowBlock isn’t taking Cavendish seriously—he’s just the paranoid, bumbling idiotwho can’t complete a simple mission. Heck, nobody at the Bureau takes Cavendishseriously. And Cavendish hates it. But my long-shot theory is that what heviews as the biggest obstacle to his success could actually turn out to be hisgreatest asset.

Thistheory rests on the assumption that the Bureau is not actually a sacred fountof truth and justice with noble aims for the destiny of humanity, but if we’rebeing honest all my heart really needs is to see Mr. Block get his comeuppancefor being so delightfully detestable.

Anyway.I want to eventually seeCavendish taking himself less seriously, but not because I’m desperate to seehim become soft or huggable or even an especially nice person. I want to see Cavendishtaking himself less seriously because I can’t imagine a Cavendish more terrifyingthan one who knows he can takeadvantageof the fact that no one takes him seriously.

To Block, Cavendish is aninconvenience and a dolt, but not a threat. Cavendish is a bugbear for theBureau, sure, but not because he’s doingit on purpose. And Block takes that for granted, because it’s obvious toanyone in a five-mile radius just how badly Cavendish needs the Bureau’s validation.

I want Block to question Cavendish’scompetence. His sanity. Absolutely everything except for his loyalty. And Iwant it to come back to bite him hard. Because I’m not sure that even a massivewell-oiled government agency from the future is equipped to handle both Miloand Cavendish leaning full-tilt into their respective statuses as Magnets forDisaster.